


Chasing Sunsets

by Ftballfangrl



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: M/M, dele is a lad, eric is a rich boy, holiday romance au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-05-07 09:41:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19206802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ftballfangrl/pseuds/Ftballfangrl
Summary: Rich boy Eric on holiday with his family and friends on the quiet side of Ibiza. They’ve got their villa and their yacht but he’s bored. Bored of the same people and the same conversations. Plus his mum is trying to set him up with her friends daughter and he doesn’t know how to tell her he’s not interested. He’s being civil and has agreed to take her out for dinner just to please her. She’s nice but for some reason his mind keeps wandering to this tall, dark haired boy he saw walking back from a bar on his jog the other morning…Party boy Dele in San Antonio on holiday with his boys. Ibiza for the third summer in a row and they are welcomed back with open arms. His friend Jesse is big on Instagram so has hooked them up with a sick apartment and entrance to all the right party spots. But he’s feeling a bit jaded after another football trial went sour. He’s got girls falling at his feet but he keeps thinking about this tall blond guy he saw jogging whilst he was making his way back to his hotel a couple of days earlier…





	1. Prologue

The heat was already starting to settle on the pavement and the morning clouds had thinned out. The sun was slowly climbing its way up the sky and its rays were beating down on the back of his neck. Eric slowed his pace, reaching up to adjust the phone holder wrapped around his upper arm. His fingers rubbed against his skin, slick with sweat and he came to a stop. The time on his watch read 08:45 and he groaned internally at the thought of having to go back and join his family for breakfast. It was one thing having to sit there and listen to his Father talk about hedge funds and sensible investments but now he was also having to put up with his Mother dropping hints about Valeries daughter at every chance she got.

He shook his head, feeling droplets of sweat drip down onto his shoulders. He ran every morning, without fail, especially when he was on holiday. It was his way of decompressing and one of the only slices of time he got whilst in Ibiza to step away from the craziness that was their annual family get together. He ran a hand through his hair and lifted his arms up, reaching behind his and pulled his vest over his head. He folded it in half and tucked it down the front of his shorts, feeling the eyes of a group of girls sat having breakfast in a nearby cafe on him and he stretched his arms above his head, a smirk pulling at his lips. 

The island was beautiful at this time in a morning. There were still people around, some who were just getting up, some who hadn’t yet been to bed. But it was quiet, as though it needed a few hours to rest before everything came alive again. Eric’s family had been holidaying here for as long as he could remember. They stayed on the quieter side of the island, their villa situated in one of the exclusive gated communities. But Eric liked to run nearer to the San Antonio strip, soaking in the remnants of other peoples wild nights out as he ran past them. 

He fiddled with the buds of his headphones and lifted his arm up to get to his phone. His running playlist had come to an end and he flicked back through Spotify, locating the one he listened too during his cool downs. He pressed shuffle and lowered his arm, turning around to head back the way he’d come from. A smile softened his lips as a song started, the lyrics filling his ears. 

_‘Don’t, don’t play with her don’t be dishonest,_

_Aye, still not understanding this logic’_

He settled himself into a steady jog and let his mind wander. He turned a corner and swore out loud as he collided with something solid. He staggered backwards, eyes unfocused. 

“Shit man I’m sorry, didn’t see you there did I?” a voice said. It was uneven and the words were broken up by a hiccup, someone clearly hadn’t gone to bed yet. He wiped a hand over his face and looked at the person stood in front of him. He was short, a least a foot shorter than him and he was wearing some ugly patterned shirt that was unbuttoned, showing off the heavy chain hanging from his neck. He was clutching a bottle in his hand and Eric almost laughed at how stereotypical the guy looked. 

“Jesse, my guy, I think we need to take this off you,” another voice said and Eric looked to his right. His gaze met a pair of deep hazel eyes and he felt heat rush to his cheeks. Where the Jesse guy looked like he was trying to hard, this guy was all effortless style. He was wearing a plain black shirt, unbuttoned and a pair of grey shorts that he wore extremely low on his hips. His skin was the colour of smooth chocolate and Eric silently admonished himself for staring too long at his abs. 

“Sorry about him. Not been home yet and I think he’s a little worse for wear,” hazel eyes said, nodding his head in Jesse’s direction. Jesse tapped a finger to his nose, telling them to keep a secret Eric wasn’t aware he knew and then started walking off, throwing his arm around the shoulder of another member of their group. Eric scoffed at the sight and shrugged his shoulders.

“No worries, looks like you all had a good night.” 

“Yeah you could say that. Listen I better catch them up, see you around yeah?”

Eric watched the guy walk off, only thinking to ask for his name when he was too far away.  He put his earbud back in and shook his head before carrying on with his jog, trying to get the image of those long eyelashes and those damn abs out of his mind. 

 

***

Dele was definitely still fucked. Definitely. Because there was no other reason he could give to the fact that he was stood in the middle of Ibiza at nine in the morning, having not been to bed, nursing a semi over some tall, blond dude that Jesse had near enough winded. 

_I’ll see you around yeah?_

What the fuck did he say that for? He turned around and scanned the distance, his eyes falling on said tall, blond dude just before he turned a corner and disappeared from view. His head swam as he felt a pang of regret over not finding out his name and he told himself that he was never going near Jack Daniels again, it had clearly addled his brain. 

“Oi Delboy come the fuck along, you’re the one with the key!”

Harry shouted, putting on a fake posh accent. Dele rolled his eyes and hurried to catch up to them. Jesse was swaying from side to side, singing some Rhianna song and he had his arm slung around Marcus’ neck. He concluded that Marcus was just as drunk as Jesse was because there was no way he’d be letting him clamber all over him like that if he weren’t. 

They’d been in Ibiza for a week and Dele was sure they’d already drank enough alcohol to fill a normal persons quota for a year. He was sure it would catch up with them at some point but for now Dele was loving letting loose and just living the life with his boys. Jesse’s instagram connections had bagged them the sickest apartment near the main strip and they were all still buzzing off the VIP tickets he’d managed to score to an exclusive event the previous evening. They’d been coming to Ibiza for three years and every single time they did the same thing. And yet every single year they all seemed to think it couldn’t get any better and this time was proving no different. 

Harry had hung back from Jesse and Marcus and gave Dele a knowing look. 

“Tall, blond and decidedly male your type now then?” 

Dele flipped the finger at him and tried to think of a witty comeback. He shoved Harry’s shoulder when he started to mess around, imitating the way the guy had run his hand through his hair. How did Harry know? Was it written all over his face? Sure the guy had been good looking but anyone could see that. His chest had been broad, his shoulders all toned and tight and his eyes had been a really clear blue. 

_Fuck._

He discreetly placed a hand to his crotch to see if something else was giving him away but he was safe in that department. Harry snorted next to him and Dele pulled his hand away. 

“Fuck off,” he said with a little more venom in his voice than he intended and Harry started dancing around him, singing about him wanting to kiss the posh blond boy and making kissing noises. Dele tried to ignore him and a well timed sharp slap to the back of the head had Harry running off laughing.

His attention was caught by a group of giggling girls giving him pointed looks as he walked past them. Normally he’d straighten out his back and walk little taller, wink at one of them as he went by but this time he just gave them a quick wave. He cursed the back of Harry’s head, then cursed the after taste of the Jack Daniels as he tried to push the image of a broad chest and long blond hair out of his mind. The question of whether he would indeed see him around again flashed across his mind and Dele’s stomach fluttered. 

Fucked. Definitely fucked. There was no two ways about it. 


	2. Chapter 2

_Three days later_

 

“Eric, sweetie. Do you think you could give Isobel a hand in the kitchen?” 

Eric sighed and propped himself up on his elbows. The cushion underneath him was warm from the sun and his skin felt tight from the heat. He leaned down, reaching for the bottle of water he’d discard under the sun bed earlier on. He uncapped the lid and took a few long sips.

“Eric, honey. I asked you a question.” 

His mother’s tone was breezy but the statement had an edge to it and he rolled his eyes. He dropped the bottle back on the floor and flipped himself over so he was on stomach, his elbows perched on the hot metal. He lifted his head up, meeting his Mother’s gaze on the balcony that jutted out above the pool area. She had her hands on her hips and that look in her eye that told him he wasn’t getting away with it today. What he wanted to say was, no he didn’t want to go and help Isobel in the kitchen. That he highly doubted Isobel even wanted his help. He’d so far managed to avoid the little situations his Mother was intent on creating between them in the hopes that the pair of them would hit it off. He wanted to tell his Mother that he was twenty five years old and he could very well sort out his own love life. As that thought crossed his mind a pair of dark hazel eyes, pulled up at the sides in a smile, flashed across his vision and he shot up. 

“Oh good, you are listening to me.” 

His Mother smiled down at him and he arranged his lips into a line, pushing himself up. He grabbed his t-shirt and pulled it over his head, the soft linen sticking to his shoulders. Fine, he thought. I will help Isobel in the kitchen, I’ll take part in small talk and pretend I’m interested in her consulting job. I’ll nod in the right places and ask the right questions. He’d do all of that if it meant that he would stop thinking about those damn eyes and those fucking abs. 

It had been three days since he’d had the air knocked out of him by that small, scrawny dude with the annoying laugh. Three days since he’d watched scrawny guys tall, tanned friend walk away and three days of him entering his head at the most inopportune time. Like this morning, when he’d woken up to find himself rock hard. His dream had already started blurring round the edges as he’d reached down and wrapped his fingers around his dick and his mind had scrambled to keep a purchase on whatever it was that had him so turned on. He’d started working a rhythm and the image of brown skin, abs pulled tight as hips thrust forwards had made him snap his eyes open, releasing his grip with a strangled ‘fuck’. 

Eric shook his head. He didn’t fancy guys. So what if there had been a drunken kiss between him and a friend on his Water Polo team once, that had been a dare. He definitely did not fancy guys. Maybe talking to Isobel wasn’t such a bad idea after all. He looked back up at his Mother who gave him a pointed look and angled her head towards the villa. He gave her a thumbs up and readjusted his shorts. It wasn’t going to make a good impression if he walked in and greeted Isobel with a fucking hard on. 

He bounded up the steps and kissed his Mother on the cheek as he walked past. An afternoon of harmless flirting would do him some good, otherwise he’d just be sat around thinking about things that he definitely did not want to thinking about. 

“Hey, you need some help in here apparently,” he said as he entered the kitchen. Isobel was stood at the large island, cutting up some cucumber. She looked up at him, her eyes brightening. Eric had to admit that she was pretty. Brown hair, bright green eyes and a petite little body that looked good in the sheer white kaftan she was wearing. 

“Could you pass me the water jug?’ she asked, nodding towards the cupboard to the left of him. She reached over the counter top, grabbing the mint plant from the planter in the middle. Eric watched as the kaftan lifted up, revealing the thong bikini bottoms she was wearing, framing her extremely pert bottom. He raised his eyebrows and a smiled tugged at her lips. Yes, this certainly would be a good way to pass the afternoon. 

“It’s a little early for mojito’s don’t you think,” he asked as he passed her the jug. Isobel shrugged her shoulders as she scooped crushed ice into it. Eric laughed as she grabbed the bottle of white rum next to her and poured an extremely health amount over the ice. “When in Rome,” she said, not breaking eye contact as she took a swig from the bottle, swallowing without so much as a grimace. 

Damn, Eric thought, maybe he’d underestimated her. 

She extended her arm, offering the bottle out to him and he cocked his head to the side. “What’s up, can’t handle your drink?” she teased and he snatched the bottle from her, bringing it to his lips. The rum burned as it slipped down his throat and Isobel giggled as he attempted to smother a cough. 

He was about to make some witty comment about him being able to show her just how much he could handle later but his thoughts were sidetracked by a raised voices drifting in from outside. Isobel glanced over towards the door and rolled her eyes as a brash, London accent punctured the air. 

“Eric, my man, where are you hiding?”

He gave Isobel an apologetic look as he turned around and made his way out onto the balcony. He raised his arms out and leaned over the wooden railing, a grin spreading across his face. 

“Winksy! You little devil, you didn’t tell me you were getting here today.” 

Harry beamed up at him, the straw hat he was wearing casting shadows across his face. He mirrored Eric’s stance and leaned back with a laugh. Eric hadn’t been expecting his friend to arrive for another week and he felt a thrill at the thought that the proper holiday was finally about to be begin. He ran down the steps and clasped hands with Harry, pulling him into a hug. 

“Thought I’d fly in early, no point in delaying things when there’s partying to be done.”

Eric slapped him on the back and grinned at him. This was what he had been waiting for, someone to arrive who would want to go out and have fun. So far his holiday had been full of late night card games and lazy days around the pool full of business talk and debates over politics. He saw his Mother sat at the large dining table, a tight smile on her face. Harry wasn’t her favourite person in the world, to put it lightly. Eric had been friends with him since he was little and she’d always thought he was a bad influence on her son. Eric was inclined to agree and that was why Harry was one of his best friends. He needed that type of energy in his life, otherwise he’d be bored to death. 

“Speaking of partying. I have hooked us up good and proper for tonight my friend.”

Harry rubbed his hands together before delving a hand into his pocket, pulling out his phone. Eric raised his eyebrows as he watched him, thumbs tapping on a few apps before he lifted the screen to Eric’s face. He placed a hand over Harry’s, blocking out the sun so he could see. He’d opened Instagram and was showing him a picture of what looked like the VIP area of a club. He glanced at Harry, waiting for clarification.

“I follow this geezer on here yeah? Massive influencer, like nearly 6 millions followers. Anyway, he held a competition on here the other day. All I had to do was upload a story with why I wanted to win. So yeah, I won. How do you feel about spending tonight in the VIP area at Ibiza Rocks?” 

Eric’s eyes widened and he grabbed Harry’s phone from his hand. “Fucking hell yes I would,” he answered, swiping through the photos. He grinned as he flicked through images of the pool, the seating area and bottles upon bottles of expensive alcohol. 

“This guy messaged me as well, he’s out in Ibiza at the moment and he said he’ll hook us up with an upgraded drinks package, just need to DM him when we get there. Hang on I’ll show you who he is.”

Eric waited as Harry’s thumbs worked furiously across his screen, searching for this guys profile. 

“Here he is, looks like a right melt with some of the stuff he wears. Oh, he posted a few photos from Pacha the other night.”

Harry handed the phone back to him and Eric’s stomach dropped. The first photo was of a guy in an ugly shirt, unbuttoned with a large chain around his neck. Eric felt a nervous laugh bubbling at  the back of his throat. 

“I met this guy. Well actually I ran him to in the other morning on my jog.”

“You serious?” 

“Yeah, fucking winded me. He was out his head, probably just coming back from Pacha actually.” 

Harry shook his head, laughing and leaned over to flick over to another photo. 

“There’s one on here of him and his mates. I think it’s the fourth one, they’re surrounded by birds. Looks fucking mint. Ah there it is.”

Eric looked down at the photo and he almost swore. It was indeed a photo of this JLingz guy with his mates. They were sat on a large sofa, surrounded by a group of scantily clad girls. They all looked smashed, glasses held loosely in their hands. He scanned the faces and felt heat rise in his cheeks as his eyes fell on the person sat at the end of the group. A girl was stood behind him, his shirt was undone and her hands were splayed over his stomach. She was clearly whispering something into his ear and he had a lazy smile on his face. His eyes though, were focused on the camera and Eric’s stomach clenched again as he stared at them, those fucking deep, dark hazel eyes that had been plaguing his thoughts and making him hard for the past three days. 

“They look like a good group of lads, dress sense aside. Jesse said they’d all be up for it.” 

Harry’s voice felt distant and Eric nodded as he dragged his eyes away from the screen. He handed Harry his phone back and laughed as he watched him make his way to the stairs, talking about beers and starting the party early. Eric swallowed and made to follow him, trying to keep his mind from wandering. He was definitely not gay, he reminded himself as a sharp thrill went through him. 

 

***

Dele shifted and let out a groan at the pounding beating a steady rhythm at the side of his head. He squinted, one eye opening a fraction and he swore under his breath at the ray of sunlight that was shining directly on his face. He tried to move and was met with resistance from a dead weight that seemed to be pinning him in down. He lifted the cover and looked down and was greeted with the sight of a bronzed leg swung across his. His eyes followed its curve, all the way up to a round arse that was covered in a large tattoo. He smirked as memories from the night before seeped through the haze, remembering the squeal he’d elicited as he’d bitten down on the soft skin. 

He wiggled slowly, freeing himself and rolled over to grab his phone. He jumped slightly as it unlocked and span his head back round in the girls direction. She’d fucking changed his phone background to a picture of her. He snapped his gaze back to his phone and fumbled his thumbs over the screen. When had she done that? The last thing he remembered was her asking for a cuddle after they’d finished and he’d rolled his eyes but span some line about making an exception to his rule for her. He opened up his camera roll and scrolled through, finding the image of him and boys he’d had as his background since they’d got here. He changed it back and ran a hand over his face. He needed to wake her up and get her to leave. 

Shit, he thought, I can’t remember her name. 

He glanced over at her again and grimaced. If he woke her up she’d probably except cuddles again and that was not what he needed right now. His stomach lurched as he slowly sat up, a rush of saliva filling his mouth. His headache was already getting worse and he knew the room would be spinning as soon as he stood up. No he did not need cuddles, he needed to be resurrected from the dead. 

There was a red cup on the bedside table and he reached out his arm to grab it, praying it was water. A quick sniff told him it was vodka and he gritted his teeth at the affect the smell had on his insides. He placed it back down on the table and leaned back against the headboard, rolling his shoulders, trying to ease the tension. He was going to have to get up. He couldn’t stay here, waiting for whatever-her-name-was to wake up and try and get him to act like he was her boyfriend. Setting his jaw, ready for the onslaught of nausea, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and slowly stood up. The room did indeed spin and the floor felt as though it were a forty five degree angle. He needed to stop letting Harry convince him absinthe was a good idea. 

Shower, freshen up and the deal with the girl, he concluded and took a step forward. It took him a few tries to make it to the bathroom, pausing to lean against several different pieces of furniture along the way. He made a mental note to try and figure out a way to suggest to the lads that they have a quieter night soon without being ridiculed as he reached out and turned the shower on. 

The water felt like heaven and he moaned as it hit his back and ran over his shoulders. He turned it up as hot as he could stand it and let it cascade over him, hoping that the heat would draw out the alcohol through his pores. He lifted his arm up and leaned against the wall, placing his head on his forearm. Ibiza was going to kill him and all that would be left of him by the end of it was a dry, husk that stunk of ciroc and whiskey. 

His mind drifted to the girl that was lay in his bed and he felt his dick twitch. Fuck, what was her name? Jodie? Jade? He was sure it began with a J. Whatever it was she’d surprised him, having been a little bit shy in the club she had fully come out of her shell once he’d got her into bed. He might have wanted to see her again had she not wanted cuddles and changed his fucking phone background. Nevertheless, as he pictured her on top of him his dick stood to attention and he lifted his right arm from his side. 

He started up a lazy rhythm, his fingers not quite closed all the way round as he tried to conjure up more images of the night before. He moved to the left, just an inch and angled himself so the water hit his hips, the pressure just right. He bit his lip as he stiffened his hand, settling into a faster pace. Images from his nights with a few different girls mixed together in his head and he moaned at the memory of a hot, wet tongue sucking at the tip of his dick. He couldn’t remember who that had been but he thought he might need to find her again. He focused on that for a couple more seconds, a slight sense of frustration kicking in. His hand felt good, the stuff he was picturing was really good but the coil of heat low in his stomach didn’t seem be growing. He was pumping away and nothing was really happening. 

He stopped for a second, running his thumb over the tip and squeezing. What the fuck was wrong with him? He shook his head, telling himself to get a grip. He was thinking too much, he just needed to let his mind wander, let it pick out what he needed to get him off. He closed his eyes again and started working his hand, beginning with slow strokes. The simmering in his stomach returned and he smiled. That’s more like it. He cleared his head and focused on the feel of his hand, the friction of the water hitting his balls as it flowed down his back. He sped up again, thrusting his hips, fucking his hand rather than the other way around. His mind scrambled for an image, the one that would send him over the edge and he swore as a pair of bright blue eyes floated across his vision. He didn’t have time to place them before he felt his toes curling, the pressure building in his stomach, making his balls tighten. He thrust harder, hearing the smack of his fist against his stomach. Shit, he was so close. He focused on the blue eyes again, trying to conjure up who they belonged too. He let out a strangled moan as broad chest and a set of rock hard abs entered his head, his orgasm ripping through his body with such force he almost fell to his knees. His eyes flew open as he watched the water wash his come away and he breathed in, his whole body shaking. 

What the fuck was that? 

Before he could address the fact he’d just had possibly the best orgasm for quite a while whilst thinking about another guy, the bathroom door burst open and Harry came bounding in. He quickly turned around to face the shower head and pretended to be washing his hair. 

“Oh come of it Del, I know you were having a wank. Could hear you from out there,” Harry teased. Dele turned his head and gave him what he hoped was a death stare before turning the water off. 

“What the fuck do you want?” he asked, motioning for Harry to throw him a towel. “And do you not have any decency, there’s a girl in there?” he told him, nodding his head towards the door.

“Not anymore there’s not. Caught her on your phone when I walked in, told her to do one,” Harry answered, shrugging his shoulders. Dele laughed, feeling slightly bitter at the fact he hadn’t been the one to do it. He wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped out of the shower. Harry sat down on the toilet as Dele brushed his teeth, playing around on his phone. 

“It’s like fucking Love Island in this apartment mate. Jesse’s bedroom door is locked and I can’t find Rashy, I can only assume they had a foursome last night because they were both definitely with us when we got back.”

Dele choked out a laugh, splattering bits of toothpaste on the mirror. 

“Either that or they just shagged each other.” 

Dele’s stomach tightened at Harry’s words and the image of that six pack entered his head again, the way it had made him feel causing his cheeks to redden. He looked at Harry in the mirror and shrugged his shoulders. He couldn’t talk, couldn’t make a non-committal joke about Harry being a dick. He just carried on brushing his teeth, waiting to see if Harry had anything more to say on the subject. 

“Del, my boy. Get yourself lively again because we’ve got another big night ahead of us.”

Dele felt the air rush out of his lungs at Harry’s sudden change of subject. He spat out his toothpaste, dipping his head to take a few mouthfuls of water. The relief that had washed over him had made him feel slightly light headed and he pressed his palms into the countertop. 

“Why is that?” 

“Jesse’s instagram competition thing is tonight. VIP setup at Ibiza Rocks. Does mean we’ve got to hang around with the winners but he said the guy seems sound enough. He’s going to bring some friends along, let's hope there’s some lookers eh?”

Dele nodded, smiling as Harry clapped him on the back and practically bounced out of the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror, that pair of bright blue eyes entering his head again and he briefly wondered if he’d ever see them again. He ran a hand over his face and pushed away from the sink. 

Yes, let’s hope tonight was going to be a good one, he needed the distraction. 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How was this happening? How was the guy that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about for three days stood in front of him? Why was his pulse racing? Why did he keep having to remind himself that he wasn’t fucking gay?

“Come on man stop being such a pussy,” Jesse yelled, throwing an empty red cup at him. Dele grimaced and bought the drink he was holding to his lips. The scent of the different spirits filled his nose and he almost choked at how strong it smelled. He lowered the cup slightly, shooting a side eye at the boys. “What the fuck have you put in this?” he asked, sniffing it again. Jesse sniggered, putting his hand over his face. Marcus shrugged and took a sip from his own drink, smiling into the rim of the glass. Harry pushed himself up from the sofa and walked over to Dele, slapping him on the shoulder. “You know the rules Del,  last one to start drinking has to do a forfeit, you should have just taken the drink I offered you earlier,” Harry said, squeezing his shoulder and giving him a wide, cheesy grin. 

Dele rolled his eyes and bit down on the rim of his cup. The plastic crinkled under his teeth and he lifted it slowly, the liquid trickling towards his mouth. The alcohol burned his tongue and he swallowed it in one go, gritting his teeth as it singed the back of his throat. He slammed the empty cup down on the side and the boys cheered, clapping their hands. He flipped them all the finger and shoved Harry to the side. 

“Welcome back to the party Delboy, don’t ever let us down like that again,” Jesse teased. Dele ignored him and patted the middle of his chest. The alcohol was still tracing a path down his windpipe and he shuddered at the thought of what exactly had been in the drink. He shook his head and wiggled his fingers. His arms were already starting to feel a little bit like rubber. He looked over at Harry and narrowed his eyes. Absinthe, he thought and swore in his head. 

“Jess, what time are we supposed to get to Ibiza Rocks for?” Marcus asked, checking his phone. Jesse shrugged and opened his own phone, his thumbs working over the screen. 

“Competition winner has been told to arrive for 10pm. Which gives us four hours.”

“This guy better not be a complete drip,” Harry commented and Dele laughed. He couldn’t disagree, the thought of spending their whole night with a bunch of people who could only get into Ibiza Rocks by winning their way in didn’t exactly fill him with much hope. Jesse shook his head and held up a finger, telling them to hang on for a second. “Ah, here he is. Guys loaded. He only entered the competition for a laugh. Here look at his profile. He spends half his time on yachts.” Dele raised his eyebrows and walked over to look at Jesse’s phone. “See look, he was in LA last week, Vegas before that. He looks sound as fuck, got some mates over here as well. You never know Del, if he brings some girls, you could actually pull someone decent tonight.”Dele poked Jesse in his ribs and ducked out of the way as he tried to retaliate. He walked back over to the kitchen and pulled open the fridge. He grabbed a bottle of Corona and rummaged around in a drawer, locating the bottle opener. He took a long sip and licked his lips, his mind drifting to his shower that morning. A brief thought crossed his mind but he shook his head, dismissing it immediately. He took another drink and told himself to liven up. 

“Right lads. Four hours did you say? Marcus what do you say we get these pair back for cheating at beer pong the other night?” he said, holding his arms out in a challenge to Jesse and Harry. He was met with shouts and jeers and Marcus jumped up to go and set up the table. He opened Spotify on his phone and selected a playlist. Stormzy’s ‘Big for your boots’ filled the apartment and he pointed at Jesse, mouthing along to the lyrics. Marcus reappeared with a stack of red cups in one hand and a bottle in the other. “Let’s make this interesting shall we lads,” he said planting the bottle round on the table and spinning it round. 

“Fucking Ouzo? Beans are you mad?” 

“What’s up Jess, not feeling confident?”

Jesse raised his eyebrows at the challenge in Marcus’ voice and he held out his hand, gesturing for the bottle. Dele watched as he unscrewed the lid and raised it to his lips, taking a rather large swig. He laughed as Jesse started spluttering and Marcus nearly fell over in a fit of giggles. He felt Harry come up behind him and he turned around, noticing he had his phone to his ear. “Think I better get us some food otherwise our Instagram influencer isn’t going to make it to his own fucking party,’ he commented, before walking off to begin his order. Dele chuckled and lifted the Corona to his lips. He was already starting to feel blurry around the edges and he swayed slightly as the opening bars to Despacito started to play. 

***

Eric’s head was a mess. A complete and utter mess. He was standing in front of his wardrobe, several pieces of clothing already scattered on the floor around him and all he wanted to do was lay down on his bed and scream into a pillow. But he couldn’t. Because Harry was currently splayed across said bed, scrolling through his contacts and getting in touch with people he knew were on the island. “Right so Jan’s in, although apparently he’s met some bird so he might not stick around for long. Chilly’s going to swing by with the lads he’s with so at least there’ll be a few of us.”Eric nodded absentmindedly, not really paying attention to what Harry was telling him. He sighed in frustration and ran a hand over his face. He needed help. He needed to know what to fucking wear and he needed to stop thinking about what was going to happen when he walked in to that fucking club. He placed his hand on a white, v neck t-shirt and pulled it out towards him. He was thinking about this far too much, he just needed to make a decision, get dressed and start drinking. It was the only way he was going to make it through the next few hours without going mad. 

“Eric, you are not attending a fashion show mate. Just put something on that will make those baby blues of your pop for the ladies. It’s time we got the night started.” He felt a rush of heat rise to his cheeks and he turned around to give Harry a glare. Harry held is hands up in response and then pointed at the shirt in his hands. “Yes mate. White, always a good choice when you look like Prince Charming. Wear that with those chino shorts you’ve got and you are good to go. Oh and no fucking sandals otherwise I will have to kill you.” 

Eric flipped Harry the finger and pulled the shirt over his head. He pulled his swim shorts off and tugged on the shorts Harry had mentioned. He rummaged around in the bottom of the wardrobe, grinning when he came across a pair of sandals. “You mean these? I think they make quite the fashion statement,” he said lifting one up before throwing it at Harry. Harry swore and threw it on the floor, shaking his head. “It is a good job I’m here Eric, you are spending too much time around these older folk and they are starting to rub off on you.” Eric laughed and shrugged his shoulders before picking up a pair of Toms and slipping them onto his feet. He stood up straight and looked at himself in the mirror. Harry was right, the white did make his eyes look very blue and the t-shirt was tight enough to pull across his shoulders. He leaned in to his reflection, pulling at his hair. There wasn’t much he could do about that part, it always just did what it wanted. Plus he was forever playing with it so there wasn’t much point in putting anything on it. 

“We sorted?” Harry asked as he jumped up off the bed. He walked over to where Eric was stood and checked his own reflection out in the mirror. He made a comment about looking dapper and Eric shoved him in the side, shaking his head. Harry was always full of confidence and he had no doubt that he’d have a girls lining up to dance with him later on. 

Ten minutes later they were stood in the kitchen, sipping on some whiskey his Father had been pouring for himself as they’d walked in. Eric felt it burn the back of his throat and he thought about how he’d much rather be drinking a Corona or a cocktail of some sort. But he kept quiet as he watched Harry knock back his drink like it was water. It was nearing half past nine and their taxi would be arriving soon to take them to Pacha. Eric took another sip as he felt a knot of unease twist in his stomach. He should have been looking forward to it, excited about finally having the chance to enjoy the Island how it was meant to be enjoyed. And he was. He was looking forward to getting out of the villa, to escaping the boring adult talk and letting his hair down. But he couldn’t shake the feeling of apprehension that had settled over him. Because once again, whenever his mind wandered all he could picture were those eyes. Those eyes and that body and the fact that in less than half an hours time he would be stuck in a VIP area with the person they belonged to. Every time it happened he tried to refocus, tried to think about all the pretty girls that would be there as well. But it didn’t work. Instead he just thought about the fact that alcohol would be flowing and how that could be a recipe for absolute disaster. 

***

The club was already quite busy and Dele had to push past a few people to get back to the entrance to the VIP area. He lifted his arm to show the bouncer his wristband and gave him a small nod when he lifted the red rope aside. It still baffled him sometimes that in the space of three years they’d gone from queueing up just to get one drink in a place like this to being gifted free access to the exclusive areas. “Here he is,” Harry shouted and Dele smirked as he saw his best mate sat on a big day bed with his arm thrown around two girls. He was never one to waste any time. He picked up a bottle of beer out of the large ice bucket placed at the end of the bed and lifted it up in silent cheers before bringing to his lips. Harry leaned in and whispered something to one of the girls and the way her eyes fell on Dele, all hooded and sultry, made him cock his eyebrow. She giggled and flipped her long black hair over her shoulder before rising to her knees. She crawled over to him, the low cut of her dress leaving little to the imagination and Dele didn’t even try to hide where his gaze had slid too. 

“Your friend Harry has just been telling us that you are in need of a little TLC,” she said, coming to a stop before him and placing a hand on his arm. Dele cocked his head to the side and eyed Harry who had a devilish grin on his face. He focused back on the girl and gave her a smile. 

“Has he now?” 

“He has, apparently you’re looking for someone who can show you a good time.”

He was going to kill Harry. He laughed and took a sip from his drink without breaking eye contact. She was pretty, big green eyes, full lips and very obvious fake boobs. He’d have probably gone for her anyway and he felt a little dig of annoyance that Harry thought he needed help. “Well I guess we’ll have to see about that,” he said and the girl bit her lip before taking the bottle out of his hand. She raised it to her lips and sucked the top into her mouth. Dele saw her tongue dart into the bottle as she took a drink and he felt a twinge in his groin. She wasn’t here to mess around. Dele was about to say something else to her when there was a commotion behind him. He snapped his head round and was greeted by the sight of Jesse being followed by a group of around six of seven people. 

“Time to get the party started people,” he yelled. He lifted his hands in the air and Dele realised that he was holding three bottles in each of them. A closer inspection told him they were bottles of Ciroc and he rolled his eyes with a smile. That sponsorship deal was clearly still paying dividends. He glanced back at the girl but she was already clambering off the bed, her attention clearly piqued by the new blood that had arrived. He smirked and made his way over to Jesse, taking two of the bottles out of his grip. “Dele, my guy-“ he started before bursting into a fit of giggles. Jesus, Dele thought, was he really that far gone already. He watched as Jesse waved his hand in front of his face trying to regain composure. Dele waited, drinking his beer and tried not to laugh. 

“You are not going to believe this. Oi Hickford get your arse over here,” he yelled and Harry detached himself from the girl he was sat with. Dele was sure this was going to be another one of those Jesse things that no-one else understood and he gave him a pointed look as Harry joined them, telling him to get on with it. Jesse gave him a look back and turned around, whistling loudly to get someone's attention. Dele recognised the guy that walked over from the Instagram profile that they’d looked at earlier. He was short like Jesse and he had a fucking straw hat on that Dele just knew Harry was going to rip him to pieces about once he’d had a few drinks. 

“Alright lads,” he said as Jesse slung an arm around his shoulders. His thick London accent threw Dele off, he’d been expecting something posher. Jesse pointed a finger at the guys chest. “This is Harry, competition winner and my new best mate,” he said his words already slurring. “Guys a ledge, not only have we been fixed up with a drinks package but he’s also put his card behind the bar.” Harry saluted them and Dele had to admit that he was impressed. He looked across at the other Harry who also seemed to have stopped focusing on the hat as soon as Jesse had said those words. 

“I’m Harry as well mate. This could get a bit confusing as the night goes on.”

“Ahh mate, last names Winks. Most people call me Winsky.”

“Winksy it is then my friend. Who you bought with you then?”

Winksy’s eyes widened at the question and an eager smile spread across his face. He released himself from Jesse and disappeared for a few seconds. Jesse sniggered and Dele look at him. “Shiiit, I forgot this was what I was meant to be telling you’” he began, leaning in as if he was going to whisper something to Dele. Before he could say anything Winsky appeared again this time with a couple of people in tow.“Fellas let me introduce you to some of my friends. This is Jan, Chilly, Madders, Kyle and oh wait hang on someones missing,” Winksy left them all to their awkward handshakes and Dele was complimenting Madders on his trainers when he heard him return. 

“And this is Eric, you’ll have to excuse him he’s not used to all this partying.”

Dele lifted his head up and he felt as though his stomach had fallen through. He snapped his gaze to Jesse who was staring at him like he’d just pulled the greatest prank of all time. Beside him he could feel Harry vibrating as he started laughing and he shot him a glare. He didn’t know exactly what Harry had told Jesse but he knew that he was going to kill him anyway. His heart was hammering against his ribcage and he sipped his drink for something to do. He glanced back at Eric and their eyes met. His insides burned as he thought about his shower that morning. 

How was this happening? How was the guy that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about for three days stood in front of him? Why was his pulse racing? Why did he keep having to remind himself that he wasn’t fucking gay? 

“We are kind of already acquainted with your good friend Eric here, aren’t we Del?” Harry said, nudging him in the shoulder. Dele broke their eye contact and looked slowly at Harry, confused as to why he hadn’t ask Jesse the question. ‘What? Oh yeah, Jesse basically winded him the other morning,” he answered and he saw a smile tug at Eric’s mouth. Jesse laughed and Eric looked at him before laughing as well. Dele stared at the floor as he felt his stomach flutter at the sound. 

Fucking get a grip, he told himself. Where’s that blonde gone? I should find her. 

There was a beat of silence and they all took a sip from their drinks. Jesse smirked and stared at them all before clapping his hands together. “Right then lads, enough standing around. Drinks are flowing, girls are looking tasty. Let’s have a good night yeah?” A round of cheers rippled through the group and they all clinked their various bottles and glasses together before dispersing. Harry nudged Dele and inclined his head towards the girls they’d been speaking to and Dele nodded. He glanced around and he felt his cheeks burn as he clocked Eric, staring at him over Winksy’s shoulder. The blond guy quickly looked away and Dele ducked his head. 

Fuck, he thought looking down at his beer. He needed a stronger drink. 

***

Eric couldn’t remember when he’d stopped being able to tell what he was drinking but he’d just taken a sip from his drink and he definitely wasn’t sure if it was vodka or gin or whiskey. He looked down at the plastic red cup in his hand and giggled slightly before bringing it back up to his lips and downing the contents. The music pumped away in the background and he could feel the bass vibrating through his whole body. He looked around and then glanced down at his watch. It was 1am and he realised he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Harry. Typical _,_ he thought, off shagging some girl somewhere no doubt _._ The false promise of making sure it was a proper lads night out echoed in his ears and Eric smirked. Never one to keep to his word was Harry. He pushed himself off the stool he was half perched on and immediately had to put a hand out to steady himself. He hadn’t even planned on getting wasted but then he’d stepped forwards and his eyes had met those fucking hazel ones and his insides had done that funny little flip. Once the small talk had dwindled away he’d gone in search of the strongest drink he could find. 

Dele. His brain supplied the name out of nowhere and he gripped the edge of the stool. He fought the urge to move his mouth, to curl his tongue around those four letters. He wanted to hear how it sounded when he said it out loud, compare it to the noise it made as it reverberated around his brain. He shook his head and stood up straight, swaying slightly in the process. 

Enough of the drink, he scolded himself. You need to dance, with a girl. 

He stumbled forward, stepping down on to the decked area that looked out over the pool. His limbs felt like rubber and he had to concentrate very hard, making sure he didn’t trip over his own feet. He wasn’t sure exactly what he looked like but he straightened out his back and did his best to stop squinting as the music made his head spin. It didn’t take long before he spotted a girl making a bee-line for him from the other side of the decking. He smiled at her as she approached and he widened his eyes as she placed a hand on his chest. “Hey there Mr blue eyes, what are you doing standing over here by yourself?” She bit her lip and a sharp thrill went through him as she curled her fingers, pulling on the linen of his top. Eric didn’t have to say a word, he just inclined his head slightly and she was leading him out into the crowd of dancing bodies, hand sliding down his torso. They came to a stop in the centre of what Eric supposed was the dance floor. The decking was full of groups of people moving in time to the music, couples grinding against one another. He looked back down at the girl in front of him and she gave him a wicked grin as the DJ started playing a sexy r&b track. He bit his lip as she turned around and backed into him, her hips moving against his. 

She was tall, blonde and very tanned and Eric could see down the front of her dress as she danced against him, she wasn’t wearing any underwear. He closed his eyes for a brief second, letting the beat of the music mix with the alcohol in his bloodstream. He wasn’t normally one for a dance but the way she was winding her hips, arse arched into his crotch was providing exactly the kind of distraction he craved. He lifted his hands up and placed them on her waist, gripping her sides slightly. The pressure made her throw her head back and he leaned down, breathing against her neck. 

He was about to tell her how amazing she smelled when she moved her head away from his shoulder and he snapped his head up as she held out her hand. His gaze followed her arm and he realised she was waving at her friend who was dancing three feet away. Said friend had a guy draped over her shoulder, his face nuzzled into the crook her neck. Her eyes were wide and she stuck her tongue out before looking at him and quirking her eyebrow. A pair of hands joined his and the girl leaned back into him before drawing his hands across her stomach. He leaned down again, moving to mirror the guy opposite him and he lowered his head, lips grazing the spot just behind her ear. The girl began to swivel her hips in a figure of eight, her arse moving deliciously across his crotch. He pulled her closer and glanced up to see if her friend had reacted and a jolt went through him. He felt his dick twitch and he wasn’t sure if it was from the friction of the girls arse or whether it was because Dele was kissing her friends shoulder and staring straight at him. 

Fuck. He knew he should just look away. Turn the girl around and focus on her, lead her away to another part of the dance floor. But he doesn’t do any of those things. Instead he carries on watching, the burning sensation in his stomach coiling as he watches Dele trace a line of kisses across the girls shoulder. He bites his lip as Dele’s tongue darts over the dip in her collarbone, as he sucks at the shimmering skin on her neck. All the while never breaking eye contact, not a blink or a stutter in his gaze. The glint in Dele’s eye as he holds him in place with his stare makes Eric feel as though his own skin is on fire. 

The mixture of alcohol, heat and slow music had obviously addled his brain. There was no other explanation for what he was doing. He loosened his grip on the girls waist and bought a hand up to her neck. He gathered her long blonde locks in his palm and dragged them over her shoulder. He felt her tense and she tilted her head to the side, offering up the expanse of her neck. The small, infinitesimal part of his mind that still held rational thought told him to think about his actions, think about the girl, that this was so out of character but one look at Dele’s hungry expression and he couldn’t stop himself. He lowered his mouth to her neck, tearing his eyes away from Dele’s face. He nipped at the soft spot just below her ear, reaching round up to wrap his fingers lightly around her throat with his other hand. He dragged his lips down the side of her neck and ended with a kiss on her shoulder. He looked up and Eric swallowed as Dele licked his bottom lip. His eyes were dark with want and Eric knew it wasn’t for the girl stood in front of him. They stared at each other for a moment longer, the question of what exactly the fuck they were doing stretched out between them. Eric felt lightheaded and heavy all at once. He could hear his pulse hammering in his ears over the music and his whole body ached with the heat that was coiling in his stomach. 

Without warning Dele moved away from the girl leaving her looking around wondering where he’d gone. Eric spotted him walking backwards the bar area. Something white hot shot through Eric’s body and he swore internally. He was about to walk away, leave the girl to her friend and find a corner to hide in when he spotted Dele again. He was stood at the bar, leaning on his elbow, staring directly at him. The bartender bought a bottle over to him and Dele handed over his card. Eric dropped his gaze to the bottle and back up again and Dele tipped it in his direction before pointing it towards some private cubicles on the far side of the VIP area. Eric felt his toes curl and he swallowed hard. 

 

Was he really going to do this? 

He watched Dele walk off, the bottle held loosely in his hand. The girl he’d been dancing with said something to him, may be asking him why he’d stopped but he wasn’t listening. Eric knew that if he took a step forward, if he walked away from her, if he followed Dele then there was no going back. He clenched his hands into fists, the bite of his nails against his skin cutting through his alcohol imbued thoughts. He didn’t have to follow him. He could just turn around and leave. That would be the sensible thing to do. But what if you do follow him? The thought was abrupt, shutting out the voice that had been trying to make him see reason. Do you want to follow him? he asked himself and he felt a twinge in his groin that told him all he needed to know. He looked down at the girl and gave her an apologetic look before stepping around her. 

“Two for eight euros?” 

The voice cut across his thoughts and he blinked a few times before focusing on the tray of shots that was being held out in front of him. He grabbed four and pulled a twenty out of his pocket, waving away the need for change. He downed two on the spot and then started walking forwards, sinking the other two as he moved. His heart was hammering against his ribcage and he pushed past a few people as whatever had been in those shots seeped into his system.

Fuck. He really was doing this. 

***

Dele leaned back against the cool wood of the changing cubicle and wrapped his lips around the top of the bottle. He lifted it up and chugged down a few mouthfuls, the smooth liquid burning the back of his throat. He swung it down to his side and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, staring at the saloon style doors.  _ He’s not coming. _ He let out a low, sardonic chuckle and lifted the bottle up to the door. “Fucking cheers, you tease,” he said before tilting his head back against the wall. 

What was he doing? Why had he basically just eye-fucked a dude in the middle of the dance floor when he’d had a straight ten out ten eating out of the palm of his hand? Why was he waiting in a changing room, nursing a fucking painful erection hoping that said dude was going to appear?

His head was swimming and his stomach felt like it was doing somersaults. He twirled the bottle of rum around his hand, contemplating how long it would take to down the whole thing and exactly what damage that might do. It seemed a fair price to pay if it would stop him from wondering how it would feel to have those fingers wrapped around his own throat. The sight of Eric pressed up against that girl, trailing his lips down her neck had been enough to almost send him over the edge. He’d walked away and he had meant to carry on walking but then he’d thought about the way Eric had been looking at him and the heat in his stare. And then his brain had supplied an image of him with his back against a wall and Eric on his knees and his dick had hardened a little too quickly. The conviction that he’d felt as he’d bought the bottle of rum, eyed Eric across the dance floor and then slipped into the cubicle drained out of him and he banged his head against the wall. He was stupid and drunk and he couldn’t just get up and walk out because his dick was straining against his shorts. The thought crossed his mind that he could just sort himself out and go back to the party and he glanced down at his shorts and then up at the door. He lifted his right hand to the waistband and his fingers fluttered against his abdomen. He closed his eyes and Eric’s damn fingers once again filled his mind. He ignored the part of him that wanted to stop and he imagined what it would be like to feel his pulse beat against Eric’s palm, to feel the pressure of his fingertips on his skin as he moaned his name. 

The sound of the cubicle doors swinging shut made Dele snap his eyes open and his knees almost buckled underneath him. Eric was standing there, staring at him. His eyes were focused on Dele’s hand and the fingers that had slipped their way under his waistband. Dele swallowed as Eric dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. He didn’t remove his hand but gripped the neck of the rum bottle with his other one and bought it to his lips. Eric’s gaze flicked up to his face and Dele didn’t break eye contact as he took a long sip. He lowered it slowly from his mouth and held it out in front of him, being careful not to extend his arm all the way. His heart jumped as Eric stepped forward and took the bottle from him. Neither of them spoke and the air seemed to thicken around them, the humidity of the Spanish night intensifying. Dele felt sweat prick the back of his neck as he tried to steady his breathing. 

Eric dropped the bottle on the cushioned bench to the right of him and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked at Dele and licked his lips, eyes dropping back to the hand that Dele still had down his shorts. Dele wondered whether Eric’s brain was also short circuiting, whether his heart was beating an irregular rhythm against his ribcage. He watched as Eric raised his arm and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. His bicep bulged with the movement and Dele felt his hand slip lower, an unconscious movement that he knew Eric had spotted. Silence hung between them and Dele wondered who would be the one to speak first and break the spell. Eric lowered his arm slightly and tilted his head back. His hand travelled across his neck and he spread out his fingers underneath his chin and Dele couldn’t stop the moan that sound at the back of his throat at the sight. His own hand slipped an inch lower and his hips jerked as his fingertips brush the curve of his dick. 

Fuck, he was so turned on. 

Eric dropped his hand and locked his gaze with Dele’s. 

“Come here.” Dele’s voice was hoarse and low and he flinched as it wavered. But he was done waiting. Something needed to happen before he went mad with frustration or he knocked one out with Eric standing right there. Eric stepped forward, coming to a stop between Dele’s legs. He glanced down at Dele’s shorts and back up again before slowly reaching out his hand. Dele watched, his mind racing as he rotated his wrist and bought the heel of his palm to rest against Dele’s fingers. Eric pressed his whole hand against him and Dele let out a strangled moan as Eric’s fingers curled around his erection. Eric swallowed and squeezed again before lifting his hand away and Dele almost swore at the sudden loss of pressure. He was thinking about reaching out to grab the hand back when his breath suddenly caught in his chest. Eric had reached out again but this time he was running his fingers along the waistline of his shorts, dipping them in the gap his own wrist was creating. Eric shuffled forwards and placed on hand next to Dele’s head. He leaned in and Dele could hear how laboured his breathing was. There was a moment's pause and they both stayed still, chests rising up and down. 

“Will you show me,” Eric whispered and Dele gasped as Eric’s lowered his arm, his fingertips brushing the side of his dick as he placed his palm over Dele’s cupped hand. Dele turned his head to the side and searched Eric’s face. His lips were parted and his cheeks were flushed and those blue eyes were dark. Dele raised an eyebrow in question. “Show me,” he whispered again and pulled on Dele’s hand. Dele’s whole body burned as he unfurled his fingers slightly, allowing Eric’s hand to move his. He closed his eyes as Eric moved his head closer and he bit his lip as he felt the heat of his breath caress his neck. He shifted his arm slightly, curling his fingers around his dick and he moaned as Eric followed his movements. He started to move his hand, slow strokes that immediately had heat pooling in his stomach. Eric stayed with him, allowing him to set the rhythm. The pressure of their two hands was sending Dele crazy and he started to move his hand quicker. Eric leaned in further and the feel of his hot, wet tongue on his neck coincided with him brushing his thumb over the tip of his dick and Dele bucked his hips. He could feel precome leaking down onto this hand and the friction it provided caused him to moan. 

“Fuck,” the word escaped his throat and Eric nipped at his neck as though it were the verbal encouragement he needed. He continued to pump away and Eric continued to work with him. The weight of Eric’s body pressed up against him collided with the buzz from the rum and Dele felt as though every nerve in his body was alight. He could feel just how hard Eric was against his thigh and he halted, causing Eric to snap his head up. He released his grip on his dick and slid his hand from under Eric’s. Eric adjusted his fingers and Dele’s eyes rolled back as he started up his own rhythm. “Eric,” he moaned and he couldn’t believe how good it felt to say his name. “Touch me,” Eric said as he rubbed against Dele’s thigh, desperation making his voice thick. Before he could allow his brain to catch up with what he was doing Dele pulled on Eric’s shorts and slide his hand against his abdomen. He felt Eric suck in his breath as he brushed against the tip and Dele bit his lip at how big he felt as he wrapped his fingers around it. He registered a thought about why he should care about the size of Eric’s dick before all coherence left him as Eric moaned his name into his ear. 

“Shit, Dele. Fuck.” 

His words were half formed and breathless and Dele couldn’t help but smile as he picked up his speed, working his hand over Eric’s length. Eric mirrored him and they both panted as they let the feel of each others hand take over. The thwacking of skin against skin filled the space around them, pierced only by their moans and Dele could feel his balls tightening. He placed his mouth on Eric’s shoulder, biting down to stop him from moaning out loud again. Eric growled at the feel of his teeth and Dele did it again, harder. A large hand grabbed the back of his neck and Dele’s vision blurred at the edges as Eric pulled at his hair. He lifted his head up and smirked, rubbing his finger over Eric’s slit at the same as he licked his lips. It elicited another growl and he didn’t think he’d ever hear anything so fucking sexy in his life ever again. Eric tugged at his hair again, pulling his head back so it rested against the wall behind him. He swallowed as those blue eyes lowered to his neck and he felt his dick twitch as Eric started to move his hand. He slowly slid it his down the side of his neck, fingertips pressing on the sensitive spot just behind his ear. Dele fought hard to concentrate, to keep his hand pumping away as he realised what Eric was doing. He felt Eric’s palm press against the base of his throat as his fingertips created sparks of pleasure where they pressed against his skin.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The heat in his stomach was coiling, tightening until it felt almost unbearable. Eric squeezed his dick at the same time as he applied more pressure to his throat and Dele’s vision went white. “Fuck, Eric,” he breathed and he began to thrust his hips. Eric stilled his hand slightly and allowed Dele to fuck his closed fist. Dele’s own fist was still working away at Eric and he felt him twitch, a jolt of electricity running through him at the thought that Eric was enjoying watching the effect he was having on him. Dele opened his eyes and focused on Eric’s face. Their eyes met and Eric leaned forward. “I’m so fucking close. Fuck,” Eric breathed and Dele nodded his head. 

“Kiss me.”

The need to have Eric’s lips on his was so forceful his legs almost buckled. Eric’s eyes widened and he leaned forward, searching Dele’s face with his stare. Dele jutted his chin forwards and angled his head, licking his bottom lip. Their mouths slid together and it was hot and warm and Dele thought he might unravel. Eric moaned as Dele licked at the seam of his lips. He parted them and Dele licked into his mouth. Eric tasted of aniseed and rum and Dele pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Eric’s hand was still on his throat and he pushed down gently as he scraped his teeth along Dele’s bottom lip. They were pressed up against each other, with barely enough room left for their hands to move but the closeness created a tightness that felt like heaven. Dele lifted his free hand away from the wall and gripped at Eric’s back, dragging his nails down the smooth skin. Eric’s hips bucked and Dele smiled into their kiss, running his fingertips over where he’d just scratched.

Every inch of him was on fire and his whole body felt tight. With each thrust of his hips, each time Eric sucked on his tongue or moaned into his mouth he could feel himself beginning to fall. He moved his hand on Eric’s back selecting a new spot and he drew his nails over his shoulder blade. He felt Eric tense up and his hips started to stutter. He dug his nails in hard and bit down on Eric’s bottom lip and he felt the hot spurt of come fall over his fingers as Eric moaned his name over and over, his body shaking. The sensation of Eric’s dick pulsing in his palm was enough to send him over the edge and Dele moaned into Eric’s mouth as the heat in his stomach unspooled and stars burst behind his eyes, his orgasm ripping through his whole body. They continued to thrust against each other for a few more seconds until they both couldn’t take it any longer. Dele felt flayed open, his skin was sensitive to even the slightest of touches and he shivered as Eric ran his fingers along his jaw. 

“Fuck,” Eric said, sweat shining on his forehead. Dele laughed, a smile spreading across his face as he slid his hand from Eric’s shorts. “One way of putting it,” he said and Eric smirked as he pulled his own hand free. He reached down and grabbed two towels from a basket that was under the bench next to them. He offered one to Dele and they both wiped their hands clean before dropping them on the floor. Dele leaned down and picked up the bottle of rum, taking a long drink before he handed it over to Eric. Eric did the same thing and they stood in silence for a few minutes, the music from the party outside crowding in. “Suppose now would be a good time to tell you I’m not gay,” Dele stated, words slurring slightly. Shit he really was drunk. Eric laughed and shrugged his shoulders before taking another drink. “Nah, neither am I.” His brow furrowed and he reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. He flashed the screen at Dele and he briefly saw Harry’s name lighting up the screen. Eric raised his eyebrows as if to ask if it was OK to take the call. Dele inclined his head and Eric handed the rum back to him, 

“Alright mate? Where am I? Oh I just. Yeah you could say I pulled,” his eyes met Dele’s as he said it and the twinkle in them made Dele’s cheeks burn. “Yeah I’m on my way back now, get another round in. What was that? Dele?” Dele’s stomach lurched and Eric looked at him again, he raised his hand, gesturing that he didn’t know what to say. Dele shrugged his shoulders and Eric puffed out his cheeks. “Saw him with some girl, think they went into the changing room next to ours, I’ll see if I can find him.” Dele smirked at the smooth answer and Eric gave him a thumbs up. Dele leaned back against the wall, watching Eric as he arranged where to meet back up with the lads. He felt weirdly calm as the blond threw back his head, laughing at something Harry had said.  He should have been freaking out, should have probably felt like running away. But he didn’t, instead he laughed as Eric hung up the phone and grabbed the rum back off him, whispering swear words under his breath as he downed a quarter of the bottle. Maybe it was because Eric hadn’t freaked out, that he hadn’t scarpered as soon they had finished that he wasn’t cursing himself for letting that happen. He was sure the rum had something to do with it and he would probably wake up tomorrow and feel like he needed his head checking. 

“Right. Story is we both pulled two friends and we took them in separate changing cubicles and each received the best handjobs of our lives, that good with you?” Eric asked, pointing the bottle at Dele, hiccuping as he spoke. Dele raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Suppose a half lie isn’t too bad,” he responded and a smirk tugged at the side of Eric’s mouth. Dele felt his dick twitch again and he marvelled at the effect Eric had on his body. Before he could dwell any more on that thought he pushed himself off the wall and walked past Eric. 

“Come on then posh boy,” he said opening the doors to the cubicle. Eric looked at him, pretending to be offended and he pushed past him. Dele’s hips bucked backwards as he felt Eric’s hand brush against his crotch and he looked at him, mouth open in protest. “We’re not gay right?” Eric asked, the words heavy and laced with rum,. Dele shook his head a little too vigorously. “No, we are not gay,” he replied eyes focused on Eric’s lips. Eric made a tutting sound and Dele felt his heart constrict in his chest as he heard Eric whisper the word ‘shame’ as he walked away. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Eric didn’t know if it was the bright sunshine or his mother’s incessant talking that was making it feel as though he was being hit around the head with a sledge hammer. His mouth was dry, his tongue felt like it was blocking his airway and his teeth felt fuzzy. He pulled his cap lower over his forehead and pushed his sunglasses back up his nose. His whole body ached, his stomach was in turmoil and all he wanted to do was trudge back upstairs and crawl back into bed. But he couldn’t, not unless he wanted to be on the receiving end of the wrath he’d experienced about an hour ago. He glanced at his Mother and he caught her staring at him, her eyebrows knitted together in a frown. She’d basically dragged him out of bed, unceremoniously pulling his duvet off him, firmly telling him that he was to get up and go and spend time with his family. A swear word had almost slipped from his mouth and he’d pulled a pillow over his head, trying to block out the light. 

“Is it even worth the hangover if you didn’t wake up with someone in your bed?” his cousin Jared asked him, laughing as he sipped his drink. Eric saw his Mother’s shoulders tense and Isobel flicked her head up from where she was sitting at the other end of the table. He shrugged and shifted low in his seat. His chest burned and his stomach lurched as he thought about the night before. The sun had been rising when him and Harry had finally stumbled out of the club, shouting bye to Jesse and Marcus as they staggered in the opposite direction. Harry had a girl on his arm and her friend was walking two steps in front of them, staring back at Eric every few seconds. At one point Harry had grabbed him by the shoulders, and pulled him to one side. His words had slurred as he’d practically ordered Eric to take the girl home and shag her, reminding him that this was what Ibiza was all about. Eric had humoured him for a while, walking with the girl, asking her halfheartedly about her night. But he hadn’t been able to focus, hadn’t been able to look at her and feel _ anything _ really. So he’d made some excuse about not feeling well and paid for her taxi, ignoring Harry’s shouts as he’d climbed in to another one and headed back to his villa. It had taken him an absolute age to get to sleep. His ears were ringing and the room had span even as he lay on his bed. Thoughts of the girl he’d sent off in the taxi plagued his mind and he tried to convince himself it was because he was too drunk. 

But all he had been able to taste was rum. He could still taste it now. Could feel the burn of the liquid as he’d swallowed it down, sending a buzz through his veins. He could feel the heavy weight of the bottle in his hand as he lifted it to his lips, his eyes fixed on the hand that was caught underneath the waistband of a pair of shorts. 

_ Fuck.  _

There it was. The thing he’d been trying to avoid thinking about, the image that kept flashing across his mind every time he zoned out of the conversation. 

_ Dele. _

Dele with his back against the wall, his hand down his pants, his eyes clouded with lust and alcohol. Dele with his tight grip and his heavy breathing and the feel of his throat under Eric’s palm. 

_ Dele. Dele. Dele.  _

Eric rubbed a hand over his face and reached over to the table to grab his water. The glass was cold under his fingers and the ice clinked against his teeth as he took a sip. “Didn’t really meet anyone who took my fancy,” he answered, avoiding Jared’s eye. His cousin scoffed and pushed his chair back, walking around the table. Eric screwed his face up as he clapped his hands on his shoulders and leaned into his space. “You went to one of the most exclusive clubs in Ibiza, spent the night in the VIP section and you are telling me there wasn’t one girl there who you wanted to bring home? Not a single one?” he guffawed, making Eric’s head pound uncontrollably. He shrugged him off and he heard his Mother tut loudly from where she was sitting. He ignored the jabs to his shoulder and the look in Jared’s eye as he got up from his chair and brushed past him. He walked up the stairs and entered the kitchen, the coolness of the air con causing goosebumps to rise over his skin. 

He wondered, for a brief moment, what Jared would have done if he had turned around and told him. If he had stood up, looked him in the eye and said ‘Well actually Jared I did pull last night. I ended up in a changing cubicle with this fit brunette, had the loveliest brown eyes. What was that? Yeah a handjob. Oh and I gave him one too.’ The thought made his head spin and he bent over the counter, resting his head on his forearms. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he groaned as he lifted his head up, silently vowing to never drink that much ever again. His stomach lurched as he read the notification. 

**Jesse tagged you in a post.**

His hands shook as he opened Instagram and he felt a wave of nausea crash over him. The post was a series of photos, eight in total, and Jesse had captioned it ‘ballers’. Most of them were group shots, the lads stood around with bottles in their hands pointing at each other and the camera. There was one where the two Harrys were lying on a daybed together, arms around each other as a waitress poured liquor into their open mouths. In another Jan was looking coyly at the camera, his arms wrapped around the waist of a girl with blonde hair. She was looking up at him, a grin spread across her face and Eric recalled being her name beginning with something like S. She had seemed nice and Jan was clearly smitten, the two of them had left early, wrapped in their own little world. He was thinking about how easy it could have been to pick a girl and do the same when he swiped to the last photo and his knees almost buckled from underneath him. 

To most people it would probably just look like any other photo. Just a group of lads out having fun, drinking too much and making stupid decisions. Jesse and Marcus were in the front, sat down with their heads together. They both looked completely gone and Eric noticed the way Marcus had his hand resting on Jesse’s thigh. Behind them stood Madders and Dele’s friend Harry. They were smiling, white teeth and the chains around their necks practically glowing in the flash. The other lads were hanging round the periphery, talking or holding bottles to their lips. And then his eyes fell on the two people at the back of the photo and his throat closed up. They were stood a couple of feet apart. Dele was stood behind a high table, holding a glass loosely between his fingers. His body was turned, his weight propped up by an elbow and he was staring at someone. 

He was staring at him. 

Eric looked at himself and felt his cheeks burn at the look that was plastered across his face. He was staring back at Dele, a smirk quirking at the corner of his mouth and his arm was half raised, a bottle clutched in his hand. It looked like they were sharing a joke, a secret that no-one else in the group understood and Eric rocked back on his heels as he thought about what had happened  _ just  _ before the picture had been taken. The memory of Dele’s fingers wrapped around his dick made him suck his stomach in. He tried to push away the memory of the way his hand had felt on the back of his neck, the way his kiss had tasted of rum and whiskey and how his name had sounded as his lips had curved around it in a moan. 

He tried to do all of that as he clicked on Dele’s name, his profile appearing on the screen. He tried to forget how they hadn’t been able to stay away from each other after, their bodies pulling together like magnets as he pressed on the message button. He tried to remind himself that they had decided they definitely weren’t gay as he opened up the keypad. And he tried to tell himself that what he was doing was a very bad idea as he typed out a message, his fingers slipping over the screen as a nervous energy took hold of him. 

_ It’s just a message. It doesn’t have to mean anything,  _ he thought as he chewed on his bottom lip, his pulse roaring in his ears as he pressed send. 

  
_ *** _

It was early. Far too early really and Dele sighed as he looked down at his phone. The bed sheet was tangled around his thighs and he kicked out his feet, trying to straighten it up. The clock on the screen told him it was eight am and he groaned. He eyes felt heavy from the four hours of broken sleep he’d had and he could feel the low throb of a headache starting to manifest itself at the base of his skull. He could still taste the whiskey from the shot game they had played the night before and he marvelled at the fact his stomach didn’t feel like it was in bits. He shifted onto his stomach, pulling his pillow underneath his chin, wrapping his arms around it. He cradled his phone between his hands and pressed play on the reason he was up at such a stupid time. 

“Hey Del. I know it’s early and you’re probably asleep, or not even been to bed yet, but I thought I’d give you a ring. Sorry mate, MK Dons have just got back to me, there’s no room for you at the trials. Listen, enjoy the rest of your Summer and we’ll reccy when you get back yeah?”

As he listened for the third time, he clenched his jaw, his eyes smarting. He hadn’t had much hope, the fact that it was already halfway through the Summer had given him enough of a hint as to how successful he was going to be. But hearing the words, hearing the dejection in his coaches voice, it still hurt. Sure he could go back after his holiday and spend time going over why it hadn’t worked again, what he needed to do differently but he knew it wasn’t going to work. That had been his last chance. He was 21, it was too late. He dropped his face into the pillow and let out a muffled scream, the wealth of decisions that he’d have to face when he went home already starting to overwhelm him. He knew why Kevin had phoned but a part of him wished that he’d just told him when he got back to England, it was going to be hard to shift the cloud that was now hanging over him. 

A notification pinged on his phone and he lifted his face from the pillow. He opened Instagram and scrolled through the activity on his latest post. He’d started making more of an effort with his grid, taking advice from Jesse and whilst he’d never admit it he was actually enjoying the attention he was getting. He opened up the post and scrolled through the comments, smiling as he liked them. It was a photo of him from yesterday. They’d decided to have a night in, cracking out the drinking games and getting absolutely plastered knowing all they had to do was stumble upstairs to bed. Jesse had offered to get a snap of him whilst the sun was setting and he had been rather pleased with the outcome. He had his sunglasses on, his shirt was open and he was holding a bottle of corona loosely in his hand. His face was turned to the side and they’d framed it so the sunset was in the background. He had to admit that he looked good and it seemed the a number of people commenting agreed with him. There were lots of girls leaving heart eyes and tagging their friends. A few of his mates had left flame emojis, telling him he was living the life, calling him a baller. He replied to a few and then scrolled up to look at the likes. He pressed on the number and a list of names appeared. He glanced down, recognising a few and then heat spiked in his gut. 

**Ericdier**

The name sent a jolt through him and he sat up, sweat prickling the back of his neck.  _ Shit  _ he thought as he stared at it, imagining Eric lay down on a sunbed, casually scrolling through his feed and stopping to double tap on his post.  _ It’s just a like.  _ Except it really wasn’t. He ran a hand over his face and opened up his DM’s, his eyes falling to the third name on the list. Dele bit his lip as he pressed his thumb against Eric’s name and the message opened.

_ Hey, will you thank Jesse for us? It was a good night, we should do it again sometime. _

The message had popped up three days ago. Dele’s legs had gone a little weak when it had happened and he’d rushed to open it, not thinking it through. It was a simple message but all he’d been able to focus on was ‘we should do it again sometime’ and he had freaked out. The fact that he had left Eric on seen had been eating away at his insides ever since. And now he’d liked his photo and his stomach was doing weird little flips and he didn’t know what to do.

His head had been all over the place since their moment in the changing cubicle. Everytime he closed his eyes all he could see was Eric, his blue eyes and his blonde hair, his toned arms in that white shirt and the way his biceps had bulged as he pinned him against the wall. He couldn’t shake the way his hands had felt, the way his fingers had made a fist around his dick and how fucking good it had felt to have his palm pressed against his throat. It was all he could think about when he was lying in bed, taking a shower, lazing around the pool. 

_ We should do it again sometime.  _

He felt his dick twitch as he reread the message and he pressed the heel of his hand against his boxers, trying to push the thoughts away. He placed his phone down on the bed, message still open, and leaned back against the headboard. Eric probably just meant that they should all go to another club, have a boys night out. He was just being polite, thanking Jesse because everyone had enjoyed their night. 

_ Some more than others  _ his brain supplied and he groaned as he felt his dick harden, unable to stop the image of Eric’s flushed face as he’d come all over his hand from entering his head. He didn’t need this. He didn’t need to wake up every morning, hard and unable to stop thinking about Eric until he’d bashed one out. He didn’t need Eric’s voice to reverberate around his brain at random times during the day, the way he had breathed  _ ‘I’m so fucking close,’  _ in his ear making Dele’s toes curl even three days later. He didn’t need the way his heart had clenched in his chest when he’d received the message, a thrill shooting through him at the thought that he was on Eric’s mind. He definitely didn’t need to be thinking about how much he really wanted to see Eric again, not at the same time as having to acknowledge his dream of becoming a footballer was probably over. It was one too many identity crises than he could handle. 

Dele ran a hand through his hair and yanked at the tight curls, trying to distract himself from the thoughts whirring around in his head. On any other day he would just lie back down and go back to sleep, get up after lunchtime and drown his feelings in alcohol. But he knew that wasn’t going to cut it this time. His head was too full of things he didn’t want to deal with and he could feel the familiar itch of anxiety creeping its way up his spine. No he needed to distract himself, he needed to switch off. He picked up his phone and his eyes skipped over the message again, his chest burning. He pushed himself up off the bed and pulled on some shorts before grabbing his phone and rifling around in his bag for his exercise armband. 

_ I’m going for a run and I am not going to think about Eric Dier and his fucking hands the whole time,  _ he told himself before picking up his headphones and stalking out the door. 

***

It was going to be another hot day and Eric cursed himself for not getting up earlier. His feet pounded against the concrete and he felt the ache in his legs as the impact reverberated through his muscles. There were also a lot more runners out at this time and he was starting to get annoyed at having to weave through groups of people in order to keep his pace. At one point he’d found himself surrounded by a group of girls, all of them far too done up to be actually taking their run seriously. Their giggles had pierced through his music and eventually he had given up, plucking an earbud out of his ear and staring straight at one of them. After an awkward conversation about whether or not he wanted to join them back at their hotel,  _ no he didn’t,  _ they had left him alone. He lifted his arm up, glancing down at his phone in its holder and sighed when he saw that he’d only done 3k. Another 2k to go and he’d circle back, head back to the villa for another day of sitting around doing nothing. Another day of sitting around and stewing over the fact Dele still hadn’t replied to him. 

He came to a stop and slid his phone free, opening up Spotify. He scrolled through his playlists until he found the one he wanted, the opening to Drake’s Headlines filling his ears. His hamstrings protested as he stretched out his thighs and found his rhythm again, sweat pooling at the bottom of his back as he built back up to a steady pace. He tried to focus on the beat of the song, the feel of the pavement underneath his feet, his breathing as he pushed through the pain barrier. He tried to zone everything out, to ignore the thought needling away at the back of his brain.  _ It’s been three days, he’s not going to reply.  _ Eric shook his head and blew out a breath, trying not to let his pace slow as Dele’s face flashed across his mind. It was pathetic really, how much it was bothering him, how he couldn’t shake Dele from his thoughts no matter how hard he tried or how much he tried to distract himself. He hadn’t been planning on going for a run but after finding himself staring as his Instagram DMs, the word  _ seen  _ making his chest feel funny, for what must have been the hundredth time he had thrown his phone down and decided he needed to do  _ something _ . 

He ran for another ten minutes, sweat running down the back of his neck as he pushed himself, running up a steep hill, not allowing himself to slow down. This wasn’t how this holiday was supposed to have panned out. He was supposed to be having a relaxing summer. A summer spent lazing by the pool, flirting with girls, spending time with his friends and ignoring the decision that was waiting for him when he returned home. His mind wandered to the letter that was sat on his kitchen counter at home, unfolded and discarded, left where he’d dropped it. He’d managed not to think about it, managed to keep himself occupied but now he could feel it settling like a weight in his stomach. A job at his Uncle’s investment firm, a foot in the door and the chance to miss out all the grunt work and walk straight into a junior position. He should have been thrilled, it was what him and his Father had been working towards for the last four years, why he’d put himself through all the exams and boring meetings but when he’d open that letter a feeling of unease had seeped in and he hadn’t been able to shift it since.  _ Maybe that’s why you decided giving some random guy a handjob in a club was a good idea.  _ The thought came out of nowhere and he stopped dead, placing his hands on his knees. He looked down at the floor and blew out a few breaths. He huffed out a laugh and ran a hand over his face, sweat slicking against his palm. 

_ Random guy.  _

Except if he was just a random guy then Eric wouldn’t have spent the last three days looking through his Instagram, almost having a heart attack when he’d nearly liked a photo from 79 weeks ago. He wouldn’t have woken up the last three mornings panting and hard, the ghost of Dele’s touch chasing him from sleep. He wouldn’t have stood in the shower, Dele’s kiss-bruised lips and lust filled eyes filling his mind as he worked his hand over his dick, knees almost collapsing underneath him. 

_ Fucksake. _

He really needed to stop. Maybe he’d relent and make his Mother happy by taking Isobel out for dinner. He needed to push Dele out of his head, forget about him and move on. Move on, as if there was anything to move on from. God his head was a mess. His distracted thoughts had caused him to wander and he came to his senses outside the little shop he normally grabbed a drink from before heading back. He set his shoulders, deciding that for the rest of the day he was going to act like he didn’t have to try and find a way to tell his Father that he probably didn’t want to take that job, like he was interested in whatever boring conversations his family were going to have but most importantly like Dele had never entered his life and that their moment the other night had never happened.

Yes that’s exactly what he was going to do. The door to the shop was open and he lifted his foot to cross the threshold. A loud noise from the road behind him made him turn round at the last second and as he stepped forward he collided with something solid. “Oh sorry man, didn’t see you there,” he said at the same time as a deep voice said the same thing and he whipped his head round. His stomach dropped as his eyes locked with a pair of hazel ones and he almost swore out loud. 

***

_ Fuck.  _

Dele shifted on his feet, his eyes flicking to the floor. He glanced back up and Eric’s blue eyes were still staring at him and fuck, this could not be happening. He lifted his hand to the back of his neck and tilted his head to the side. What the hell was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to act like nothing had happened, brush past Eric and walk away? Was he supposed to say ‘hey man, good night the other night’ and skirt around the issue, acting casual? The thought crossed his mind that he could tell Eric how he’d become the star of his wet dreams and how highly inconvenient and he sputtered out a laugh, causing Eric to widen his eyes. 

_ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.  _

His heart was beating an irregular rhythm against his ribcage and he wished Eric would break the silence first instead of just standing there with his blue eyes and his hair all pushed back. It felt like his brain was short circuiting and he’d forgotten how to form words. He opened his mouth, testing to see whether the action would make a sentence magically appear but nothing happened and he closed it again. He must have looked like an idiot and he saw the hint of a smile tug at Eric’s mouth. His stomach did a somersault at the sight and he squeezed his hand into a fist. Why was this happening? Why did Eric seem to have such an effect on him when all he was doing was fucking standing there? 

“It was a good night,” the words fell from his mouth and he clenched his jaw, the oddness of what he’d said settling between them. _ Fucking idiot,  _ he thought as he lifted his arm, gesturing towards Eric’s phone. “I’m shit at replying,” he said, giving him context and Eric glanced down before looking back at Dele. The look in his eye told Dele that he didn’t believe him and he felt his cheeks burn. 

“Regularly leave people on seen then do you?” Eric asked. He was smiling but Dele thought he detected a hint of something like hurt in his tone and he felt his heart rate spike. “No. I mean I am really shit at replying, I didn’t just do it to you,” he was flustered and he could feel his palms itching and he really wished Eric would stop looking at him like that. “It’s cool, no worries. But it was a good night then yeah?” Eric asked, biting his lip and Dele had to look away. His mind was racing and he was thankful when someone pushed past them, allowing him time to gather his thoughts. He didn’t know how to unpack that question, whether it was something that even needed unpacking and he was scared that whatever he answered was going to be wrong. 

“Yeah it was, we should do it again sometime.”

Eric’s head snapped up at his answer and Dele felt wild panic run through him.

“All of us I mean. Me, you, all the lads. We should get together again.” 

Eric nodded his head but Dele noticed the way his shoulders dropped a little and he wondered what his reaction would have been to the other answer, the real answer that had nearly rolled off his tongue. He licked his lips at the thought and a thrill went through him as Eric’s gaze dropped to his mouth. 

_ I want your mouth on mine. I want your hands on my body.  _

_ I want you. I want you.  _

The thoughts hit him like a freight train and he almost stumbled forwards. Eric leaned sideways and opened the fridge next to him, grabbing a drink. He closed it and span the bottle between his hands and Dele stared at them, remembering how those fingers had felt as they’d danced across his skin. 

“Harry’s having a party on his yacht on Friday, you should come. You should all come.” 

Dele jumped slightly at Eric’s voice, the urge to reach out and touch Eric’s hand leaving as abruptly as it had arrived. He looked at Eric, a warm smile spread across his face. 

_ Not sure that’s a good idea. _

“Yeah sure, sounds good.”

_ Idiot.  _

“Ok cool. I’ll send you the address. Might steer clear of the rum this time though,” Eric said and Dele’s heart jolted in his chest. There was a playful sparkle in Eric’s eyes and Dele didn’t miss the way he glanced quickly at his crotch before lifting his gaze back up and smiling widely at him. 

“Yeah, me too,” he answered, cringing at how uneven his voice sounded. 

“Alright, well I’ll see you Friday then, unless you want to ghost me again.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Cool. Bye Dele.”

Hearing his name on Eric’s tongue again was enough to make heat pool low in his stomach and he was glad when Eric walked away, paying for his drink before heading out the door. He ran a hand over his face, fighting the smile that was pulling at his mouth. Anticipation bubbled in his chest as he went over their conversation in his head. 

A party. On a yacht. With alcohol. And Eric. 

He really was well and truly fucked.  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a filler chapter so I apologise but its all about to get a bit more eventful. . .


End file.
